cut+paste part 2

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holiday mix

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"art advice"

ASK MARK KOSTABI
by Mark Kostabi

Dear Mark,
We’re at the beginning of a dramatic market downturn. What observations and advice do you have for artists in a time like this?
--Artist in a time like this
Dear Artist in a time like this,
Clean your brushes. I mean that literally as well as metaphorically. I don’t like seeing people lose their jobs and I’m worried that more joblessness will lead to more crime, but so far, for me, the downturn has been a blessing in disguise. It’s clean up time. I, like most everyone else, have decided to cut back on expenses. I laid off four employees. Also, throughout this past year, four of my employees found other work and I decided not to replace them anytime soon. I went from a staff of 24 to 16. (I heard Jeff Koons laid off 15 people.) Then I checked to see if I could reduce my art supply bill. Producing 1,000 paintings a year, I am the biggest client at New York’s flagship Utrecht store on 4th Avenue. I discovered that my bill automatically went down dramatically because some of the people who I laid off were the ones who were burning through their brushes by not cleaning them properly. We artists know how expensive good brushes are.

Another benefit from downsizing was that I gained a lot of extra personal time, because now I don’t have to issue nearly as many time-consuming painting corrections, which were largely required by those painters who left. And now, without any additional expense, I get a lot of freed up studio space to store all the masses of accruing paintings that I won’t be selling until 2010. That’s another benefit of the downturn: I get to live with my art for a while, instead of it flying out the door while the paint’s still wet! I also heard that the people I laid off are happier with their new jobs. Being unemployed is bad, but being misemployed can be worse, because at least when you’re unemployed you know you have to change something.

Another blessing from this economic wake-up call: I took a look at my $1,700 per month New Jersey storage bill and finally asked myself, "Why? Why have I been paying, for more than two decades, to store all that furniture I bought in the 1980s, all those unresolved paintings, all those boxes of books?" So I rented a 24-foot truck and hauled a lot of the material in storage back to the studio, to either use, sell or give away. I also managed to throw out some absolute junk right there in New Jersey. Additionally, I noticed that many boxes that could hold 20 paintings only had 10 in them, so I packed them more sensibly and removed many empty boxes. I had the storage people install shelves to raise the height of my area, which led to less wasted space. I got the bill down to $1,000, and I intend to go for round two in the near future.

Another blessing: People have always asked me why I had two apartments in Rome. When I bought my big apartment in Piazza Vittorio in 2000, I didn’t want to give up my smaller rental in Campo de’ Fiori, which I’d had since 1996, because it was inexpensive and I love the street life of the charming Campo de’ Fiori neighborhood. But the rental really wasn’t that cheap, when factoring in the extra bills for phone, gas, electric, trash removal, etc. Plus all that travel time and expense going between apartments. The economic downturn made me realize it was time to simplify my life and only have one apartment in Rome. The smaller one was also misleading in terms of my image as a successful artist, since I brought all my clients there, out of previous habit, and collectors and dealers want to buy art from an obviously successful artist.

I also had the advantage of preparing for this downturn before it happened. A couple of years ago, when some artists were still routinely selling works for eight figures, I noticed some red flags. So I moved out of my big, slick SoHo studio into a scrappier, smaller, cheaper, but more strategically located Chelsea space. I went from paying $10,960 a month for the old Josh Baer Gallery-later-PPOW space on Broome Street to $9,765 for a top floor and roof of a building across the street from Metro Pictures and Barbara Gladstone.

I remember well the recession of the early ‘90s when just about everyone, including myself, thought the glory days of the ‘80s would go on forever and we just kept on spending and expanding, even when the red flags went up. We didn’t bite the bullet, so we bit the dust for a couple of years. My delusion was ego-driven but I also had the well-intentioned if naïve desire to avoid contributing to artist unemployment. So when my accountant told me that I had run out of money, I had to fire 17 people (almost all of my employees), including the very good ones who did a lot more than clean their brushes well. I had to stop art production totally for a while and focus solely on selling my vast inventory of ‘80s-scaled, 8 x 6 ft. paintings. I sold them in bulk for $1,000 each to bottom-feeder dealers who wore sandals. They said they weren’t buying them to resell. They were buying them for their cousin. In recent years I’ve bought back many of those works at auctions, to protect my prices, for a lot more than the cousins paid.

I don’t want to be at the mercy of the dealers in sandals again, so I have made sure that I have plenty of money saved up so I can coast through 2009 while preparing my 2010 line. It’s all about preparation.

In the meantime, I do intend to sell some art. For example, I sold a blocco of 10 small paintings last week, to one of my Italian dealers, Pio Monti, who wears Diego Della Valle shoes, also known as Tod’s. I’m more accustomed to the 100 painting blocco, but now we take what we can get. Back when you still had to pay $80 million for a Green Car Crash, the buzzer for my charmingly romantic but extra Via del Pellegrino studio and home was abuzz every day, sometimes thrice a day, with dealers enthusiastically walking off with between 10 to 130 rolled-up paintings which they’d throw (correct verb) into the back of their station wagon, or else into the big white truck full of an assortment of de Chiricos, Boettis and Chias, while the large guy in the driver’s seat kept guard.

Those double espresso days are gone, however. Now I have to make the calls. And when I did, just last week, Pio Monti didn’t rush right over with that prompt enthusiasm like he used to. But I was determined. I rolled up 10 small paintings, jumped in a cab, believing I was Kostabi the famous artist, but knowing I was really a traveling salesman, and landed in Pio’s exquisite gallery located in front of the Turtle Fountain in Piazza Mattei. "You brought me a gift!" He smiled. "No, you have to pay for these," I replied, even though he was right, based on the low price I eventually had to accept. I’m known as a bluntly honest and revealing writer but I can’t bring myself to tell you how much he paid. I’ll go as far as saying it was very, very low. Not as low as the sandal dealer days, but going towards summer sale. He wasn’t expecting my little surprise art ambush so he didn’t have the money on hand. We agreed I’d meet him again, the next day. He said I could leave the paintings overnight. I might be desperate but I’m not a total fool, so I said, "I’ll bring them tomorrow when you have the grana."

Then, rolled paintings in hand, I walked to Camponeschi, Rome’s current Cedar Tavern, where the likes of Enzo Cucchi, Achille Bonita Oliva and Germano Celant can be found debating heated art issues into the wee hours. I found art impresario and scene maker Umberto Scrocca (electronicartcafe.com), who quickly ushered me into the hidden private dining room for a strangely decadent dinner, where everyone was asked to wear funny, ornate hats. Enzo Cucchi politely declined to wear a funny hat. Umberto introduced me to several young women art students from RISD and with two of them we went dancing at a nearby club called St’a (short for Sant’ Andrea) and then stopped for what seemed like a vegetarian hot dog at 2 am at a sandwich place on Corso Vittorio.

All while I was carrying my 10 rolled up economic downturn paintings in their one layer of bubble wrap. I almost forgot them at the deejay booth at St’a. The next day Pio asked me to meet him at the Lawrence Weiner opening at Gagosian Rome, with the paintings, and he’d bring the check. This time I put the roll in a recycled black Stefanel shopping bag, thinking it would be extremely desperate-looking to show up at someone else’s art opening with an obvious painting delivery. After I congratulated Lawrence Weiner, he told Rome Prize artist David Humphrey that "We met helping kids." Weiner was part of a charity event for kids that I hosted at Kostabi World in the ‘80s.

Suddenly Pio Monti popped up, smiling mischievously and whispered into the bearded Lawrence Weiner’s ear, "A man without a beard is like a woman with a beard." Pio also likes to say "A dealer who never stole from an artist is not much of a dealer," but he didn’t say that then. He just tried to prove it when he asked me to follow him into a discreet corner and tried an old trick: "Mark, I feel terribly embarrassed. I know I agreed to [blank price] but I only have a check for [blank price minus €500 Euros]." I said, "That’s okay. Pay me the €500 tomorrow." He said, "Oh, that’s so embarrassing, it’s such a small amount. Why don’t we just round it off and make this the full payment?" I said, "No, I’m not embarrassed (even though I was), I’ll accept the €500 tomorrow. I’ll take this check now and you can have the paintings now." He said, "Thanks for the trust." And I replied, "I should be thanking you for the trust. You haven’t even seen the paintings." He bought them sight unseen.

The point of this story is to illustrate our new reality: we now have to expend a great deal of effort, a sometimes humbling effort, to make a sale. Pio told me he is still selling lots of art, because he’s on the road, reaching out, making house calls, with his car full of Mario Giacomelli photos, Tano Festa confetti paintings and the occasional Julian Schnabel work on masonite. He says that the proactive survive, while those who sit in their galleries waiting do not.


Dear Mark,
It seems like I spend most of my time trying to get paid by dealers who owe me money. How can I put an end to that?
Unpaid Artist
Dear Unpaid Artist,
Tell me about it. People use the word commitment like it was inherently a good thing. But it’s not. It’s only good if you can keep the commitments. But we haven’t. We’ve made too many. We’ve made a mess because we can’t say no. Too many projects, too many loans, too many promises, too many risks. A lot of people like to blame a few "powerful" people for the economic crisis. The predator lenders. The greedy rich and powerful who tricked everyone into buying houses and stuff they couldn’t afford. To some extent, I think that’s just playing the "blame game." We are all responsible and I certainly include myself. I wasted my money on an extra house. My stress cough came back because my schedule was overloaded with too many business and personal commitments. I like to make people happy so I said yes to the frivolous lunch date, yes to the artist who wanted a private advice meeting, yes to the 35th documentary film maker who wanted to make a movie about me and then tried to get me to pay for it. Maybe I was also afraid that I might become lonely and unloved if I turned everyone down. But saying no can actually make you more attractive. Playing hard to get is phony and ultimately a turn off. But actually being hard to get is fascinating.

Don’t make so many commitments. Don’t make so many loans. "Loans? What loans? That’s what banks do. Not artists." That’s what I used to think, too. Until I realized, during a recent conversation with a health care worker in California who had nothing to do with the art world, that I was mistaken. She asked me why I had to rush back to Italy so soon. I told her I had to collect some money people owed me. I was referring to art dealers. She said "Oh, I know what it’s like. I stopped loaning money to everyone, except family members, years ago." Then I was about to "correct her perception" of the situation and say "No, I didn’t loan money to anyone -- I gave paintings on consignment," but I suddenly realized, after being in the art business for 27 years, that she was right. All those nightmare consignment agreements I’ve made over the years, were nothing more than loans to people who couldn’t, or wouldn’t, pay me back and who made me feel like they were doing me a favor by accepting my loans. In fairness, I have worked with some dealers who did always pay me properly in consignment deals, but if I were running for president of the American art world, I would campaign to take a cue from a common European practice and encourage artists to resist consignment. Tell the dealer you’ll give a generous extra discount if they buy the whole caboodle up front. There will be many beneficial side effects to everyone involved and we’ll also see fewer artists defecting from galleries.


Dear Mark,
I have been working with a well-known gallery for the past two years and we’ve spoken many times about a solo show of my work. But every time we’re about to choose a date, the gallery director decides to postpone it. What should I do? Leave the gallery or wait patiently?
Postponed again
Dear Postponed again,
I’ve been in similar situations. Don’t leave the gallery but don’t sit around and wait either. Be proactive. Since it’s a well-known gallery it means the gallerist probably has many options and knows the definition of commitment, and doesn’t want to take any risks. Persistence breaks down resistance. Keep making in-person appointments and always bring some good news. Never complain. Tell the gallerist about what you can bring to the table, besides your work. Offer your mailing list if it’s impressive. Offer to pay for some ads if you can afford it. In addition to your private appointments with the gallerist, bring friends to the gallery to see the other shows and introduce them -- preferably collectors, or at least financially successful people, not other artists desperate for a show. Show the gallerist that you’re part of the team. These days, sales are event driven. Tell the gallerist that a few weeks after the opening, you’d be available to have a collector’s brunch at the gallery where you would give a short walk-through explanation of all the works, followed by a Q & A. If you have some jazz musician friends ask them if they’d play at the brunch before and after the verbal presentation, while the guests are mingling. Christie’s has that feature at their preview brunches. Make it clear that you want to help the gallerist sell your work.


Dear Mark,
My dealer, who I’ve worked with for about four years, is increasingly asking me for favors, like commissioned paintings of subjects outside my style, free drawings for "very important collectors" and paintings on loan for his house, where he says he’s hosting regular dinners for collectors. Whenever I ask specific questions about these requests or if I ask for a receipt for the extra loaned paintings to his house, he says, "What’s the matter? Don’t you trust me?" and he suggests I’m ungrateful with an "after all these years of me helping you, how dare you question me?" vibe. While it’s true that I’ve earned a lot of money, and some prestige, working with him, the tension is growing progressively more uncomfortable. What should I do?
Anonymous But Real Artist
Dear ABRA,
As soon as someone says, "What’s the matter? Don’t you trust me?" that’s when you should stop trusting them. This is a big red flag and I advise you to find other dealers ASAP who don’t lay this classic guilt trip on you. People who resist your responsible and professional urge to put something in writing are dangerous. In Italy there’s a saying: "Ti tratto come un nemico per rimanere amici" (I’ll treat you like an enemy to remain friends).


Dear Mark,
I am an emerging artist who is trying to find a gallery representation. I go to all the openings, talk with many people about my work, organize studio visits, send hundreds of e-mails to keep in touch with anybody who seems interested on my work. . . but then I only have a little time left to paint! How should I organize my schedule to be able to do both PR and work?
Phillip Levine
Dear Phillip,
Don’t work hard. Work smart. Stop going to the openings of galleries whose art you don’t sincerely like, no matter how prestigious those galleries are. Stop trying to connect with people who snub you. Go where the support is. If someone is genuinely nice to you and supportive, give that person extra attention. The unpleasant snobs will eventually beg for your attention when they see you flourishing as a result of your embrace of the nice people. Get rid of negative people and complainers. Get rid of people who are not reciprocating your kindness. Do that and you’ll have plenty of time to paint.


Dear Mark,
I assume, since you’ve had such a huge art production for years, that you buy art supplies sensibly. Where do you shop?
Low on Linseed Oil
Dear Low,
I buy all my oil paint, canvas, linseed oil, turpenoid and most of my brushes from Utrecht. I buy gesso from Pearl Paint. I buy my custom-made stretchers (in centimeters) and custom-made "Kostabi fan blending brushes" from New York Central.


Dear Mark,
In your past columns you’ve often warned artists about unscrupulous dealers. But don’t you think artists can be just as dishonest as dealers?
Not So Dirty Dealer
Dear Not So Dirty Dealer,
Artists are certainly not above sin. Up till now I’ve been writing from the point of view of an artist. But recently I’ve worn the hat of a private dealer too, selling primary- and secondary-market works by other artists, and I’ve learned that many dealers don’t just try to exploit artists -- they exploit their own kind too. For example, some of my European clients have asked me to help them buy works from U.S. galleries by artists like Arman, Baechler, Christo, Sam Francis, Haring, Lichtenstein, Oppenheim, Pablo Picasso, Rauschenberg, Riopelle, Ruscha, Vasarely and Warhol. At first I did it as a favor to my European clients because they were buying so much of my own work.

Then I realized that it was work, so I started asking for a 10 percent commission from the U.S. dealers. More often than not, during negotiations near the close of a deal, the selling dealer would take me aside and try to get me to reduce my commission because "it was the only way the deal could happen." The usual whispered line in the back room goes something like this: "Mark, you’ve gotta work with me on this: If I give you 10 percent then there’s no profit for me –- because of my cost." The first few times I fell for it and accepted 5 percent or less. Then I wised up, after realizing that negotiating is a full-time job for dealers and they couldn’t always be earning a paltry 10 percent on every secondary market deal they do. So now I always politely stand firm and whisper back that I could always take my clients down the street to Van de Weghe, and I get my 10 percent.


Dear Mark,
I’m having trouble staying focused. I have many interests, including printmaking, drawing, painting and also video. I’m finding that when I’m in the middle of a great printmaking project, I get distracted by an equally interesting sculpture commission, and by my own ideas for new paintings. Consequently my studio is a mess of half-finished work and I feel overwhelmed.
Multidirectional
Dear Multidirectional,
Visionary film director Michel Gondry says, "Finish a project. Start a project." In that order. I met the Arte Povera artist Mario Merz in Rome shortly before he passed away. In casual conversation I asked him if he was working on any new projects. He said, "Projects? Projects are dangerous." Finish what you start. Accomplishment feels better than confusion.


Dear Mark,
Tell me something genuinely useful that few people in the art world know.
Waiting
Dear Waiting,
There is a third public restroom at Bottino that never has a line. It’s hidden in the hallway of the far left corner of the darker dining room in the back.

Alla prossima,
Mark Kostabi

http://www.artnet.com/magazineus/features/kostabi/kostabi12-10-08.asp

ANCIENT BLOODY KNUCKLES

“ANCIENT BLOODY KNUCKLES" Synchronicity Space is pleased to announce the opening of "Ancient Bloody Knuckles" on Friday, December 19th. This show will include artists Matt Lock, Jason Scott, and Eric Shaw.

An opening reception will take place Friday, December 19th from 7pm to midnight featuring a special musical performance from VIBES (not not fun) at 9:30pm.

Matt Lock is a 24 year old artist based out of Southern Massachusetts. Though he's been drawing regularly throughout his life it's only in the past 4 years that he's grown more serious and broken into the art world. Matt's work has been published by Nieves Books, Shoboshobo Books and Cederteg Publishing of Sweden. His art has been featured in many large group shows over the past few years, most recently at Giant Robot New York and Domy Books. Matt is inspired by a myriad of things: science fiction, early heavy metal culture, urban decay, solitude, laziness and high school level humor to name a few.




Jason Scott remains, as an artist, somewhat of an enigma partly due to the fact that he and his work never stagnate in the same place for too long. Born in Jacksonville, Florida, and raised all over the world, most notably Australia, Berlin, Seattle and Texas, Scott now finds himself en route to Los Corales, New Mexico. His influences include artist Rick Griffin, Hopi Indians and music.




Eric Shaw lives and works out of Brooklyn, New York. First discovered by us due to album artwork that he made for a seven inch from not not fun records, his work has been shown at KRETS in Sweden and more recently a solo in Brooklyn at the Market Hotel presented by selfportrait.net. Shaw makes a staggering amount of work and all of it is detailed, dark, whimsical, large-scale and wonderful.



We are thrilled to bring these three young and prolific artists' work together for "Ancient Bloody Knuckles."

Artist, Jason Scott, will be in attendance so come and dance with him. The exhibition will be on display from December 19th to January 24th at Synchronicity Space, 4306 Melrose Ave., Los Angeles, CA 90029 www.syncspacela.com
Any questions please contact us at (323) 284-8960 or email info@syncspacela.com

PAUL NUDD

The Land of Forty Lungs
Acrylic & collage on canvas
72 x 96"
2008

Paul Nudd seems to have his fingers in everything an artistically inclined person could finger, maybe sans being a critic. You’ve heard of the term D.I.Y., that pretty much sums up Paul. Last time I saw Paul he got drunk and passionately explained how much he loves his wife as we stumbled along through the south side.



untitled slug drawing #136
2003-05
ink, watercolor, gouache and colored pencil on paper
7 1/4 x 9



Filth
2000/2006
Hi8 transferred to DVD
5:11

Tell us a bit about your background Paul?

I immigrated to the United States as a small child. I’m 32 years old right now. My family is from the UK. I’ve pretty much spent my entire adolescent and adult life in Illinois. I went to the university of Illinois in Urbana Champaign for my undergraduate studies and the University of Illinois in Chicago for grad school. I didn't grow up in a particularly creative household, though I was free to pursue any endeavor. No one got me into art. I found art on my own.



Black Sub-Dung Slugs
Acrylic & collage on canvas
72 x 108"
2008



Dog Dream's
18 x 20"
mixed media collage on raw canvas
2006-07

I was really fortunate as an undergrad to have a slew of really kick-ass teachers. Teaching art is such an unnatural act - it’s hard to truly muster up any substantial respect for anyone who really believes in it. I’ve been teaching art in some capacity for twelve years, everything from head start to nursing home art hour, truly. The one thing I’ve learned is that, most of the time, I feel like a total knob. It’s incredible when you reach someone and are able to see some kind of result, but most of the time you don't. Teaching is just so weird, and I’ll leave it at that. Anyway, the teachers I had were really helpful and aggressive and were fantastic resources. They were mostly all relatively young, too, which is huge. Buzz Specter, Michael McCaffrey and Laurie Hogin were the teachers I loved the best.
What you truly need is brains and balls, but it’s also what you do with them, too. I mean, if you're going to be the type that is going to drag your balls all over an academic department, you'd better cut a wide enough swath for everyone to flourish deep within the newly formed canyon walls. I really lucked out, being enrolled at UIC just at the right time.



Swamp Swamp
1999
Hi8 transfered to DVD
16:42

So, beginning with the drawings, you've made how many of these? What got you started on these? Will they ever stop?

I stopped counting the worm/slug/pest drawings some time ago. I made most of them between 2003 and 2005 and I occasionally revisit the project from time to time.
I would say that there are nearly 700 of them out there. The worms appeared as a result of a drastic reduction in my pictorial vocabulary. I stopped trying to squeeze my mushy forms into landscape-type scenarios or object-based compositions. Consolidating all the forms I had been working with into one elongated dick/turd shape made a lot of sense at the time. The essence and beauty of the slug-worm is delivered to the viewer in a nice, tidy morsel. The entire project reads as an endless way of working, a taxonomy that is forever open and fairly arbitrary. It’s a nice metaphor for drawing. I’ve pretty much stripped everything away except for the color and patterns and a few other formal traits. The most desirable worms, I’ve noticed, are the ones with the most awkward markings, or the most outrageous color combinations. The worms with the most unnamable knobs and protuberances, the ones that are discreet slabs of immaculate filth are the ones that the thirsty masses flock to before all others.



untitled slug drawing #456
2003-05
ink, watercolor, gouache and colored pencil on paper
7 1/4 x 9



Dog Dream's
18 x 20"
mixed media collage on raw canvas
2006-07

You have definitely embraced the "nasty" here throughout your body of work thus far. But it is still attractive. Kind of midway between French shit smear artists and the hordes of neon colored triangle-painting kids. How do you find a middle ground like this?

Well, formlessness is just a total waste of time. It may be fun and self-gratifying, but ultimately it gets you nowhere. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to establish a recognizable structure that can hold many horrid sorts of forms and not completely implode.
If anyone is truly interested in experimentation, it should probably be done in private. I want everything I make to be beautiful. I’ve already surpassed the mere repulsiveness of some of the forms I work with. I mean, I truly enjoy the smell of elephant shit at the zoo. Its so life affirming and real, so earthy and beautiful. Same thing with the farm. Have you ever changed diapers for several years in a row? Whew! Worms and slugs are beautiful, fat is also beautiful. Most things that are ugly possess an unreal and unbelievable amount of beauty. It’s not really about redemption, either. I mean, it's not really about changing perceptions or anything like that. Filth is the center of everything, the mother of art. The only way I can convey this is through elegant, floaty compositions coupled with the inherent sadness of abject materials.
Smoothing a slab of green paint out almost into a thin mist and shifting a hulking slab of black crust across a nine foot canvas, rattling off another hundred slugs, picking out snot and my friend's snot and gluing it to a canvas in a though-balloon made out of dried glue and twine... I’m like Chagall if he ever saw c.h.u.d., man!



The Death of Talking Dogs (c.1313)
Acrylic & collage on canvas
72 x 108"
2008



dogbroth (satanicsalve)
ink, pencil and acrylic on paper
18 x 18"
2007



untitled slug drawing #452
2003-05
ink, watercolor, gouache and colored pencil on paper
7 1/4 x 9

You are a very d.i.y. kind of guy (more so than anyone else I know). You paint, draw, sculpt, publish, make videos and prints, teach, curate, brew a mean o stout and breed. How do you juggle all of this around? Because it's all substantial, not like you are experimenting, but you seem to really know what the hell you are doing all the way across the board.

I usually have two to three major meltdowns per year. I’m talking horrible tantrums that last hours. Juggling so many things is not the best idea, but it’s really the only way I know how to work. When you're super young, ideas come to you so fast that its impossible to get even a fraction of what you envision finished. Eventually you need to learn to focus; I suppose it just happens.
A lot of my work is about making things, about being autonomous and also about regurgitating ideas, materials, forms, etc. Everything exists in this cyclonic netherworld of muck and doom: the epicenter of the universe is a vibrating ball of quivering black sludge. We are passing through an already perverted landscape and our tenderness towards each other is fleeting, but necessary.
I want to be the cold gluey lump in the throat of art, I suppose because art is really the only reason why I’m hanging around. Painting proves itself to be pathology over and over again, and the fact that fecal matter adheres to most surfaces is the reason why I get up in the morning. I go to my studio every day, without exception. Even if I just scribble some absurd crap that no one will ever see, a day not going to the studio for me is crazy. I also spend lots of time making lists and organizing what I need to do. Even if I make the same list three times in a day, I need to constantly be fixated on organizing the way I make these things.
As far as my insatiable thirst for ale goes, the last batch of home brew I made was nearly a year ago! At our peak, my brother and I were brewing about 20 gallons a month. It’s a special moment the first time you get ripped to the tits on something you've fermented yourself...



slugchutney
ink, pencil and acrylic on paper
18 x 18"
2007



Soft Explosion #3
2003
Hi8 transfered to DVD
2:00

On a bit of envious side note, what was studying with Kerry James Marshall like?

Having a critique or a studio visit with Kerry Marshall was like taking a very cold shower. I think he was most interested in stripping away all sorts of bullshit that tends to stick to grad-school art quite easily. I think in his eyes, grad students are like smarmy gnats buzzing around a morsel of cake. Kerry Marshall was probably the only teacher I had who knew and openly acknowledged that the whole art school thing was a racket, at least upper-level art school. Kerry was very aggressive about trying to decipher the whole point of the art school process. He understands that there are a lot of bottom-feeders out there, and very few elite, i.e. respectable artists. For him, a life on the margins was no life at all, just a big disappointment. Pretty hardcore shit. I mean, to him, winning the Oscar was the goal, not being some half-baked, half-crazed moviemaker wallowing in self-absorption and pointless ideas. Maybe he had a weak stomach for intuition, but I know many artists are interested in making things we can argue about. Nobody argues about large, gorgeously painted scenes of urban magical realism, so he was certainly a dissident.
I learned a lot from Kerry James Marshall, like ignoring content almost completely and learning to focus on the organization and presentation of forms in my paintings. Failing big, allowing your personal interests to naturally seep into your work, and putting every conceivable amount of energy into making good paintings were all part of his mantra. I think he was looking for surprising combinations of basic formal elements. Elements that have been beaten to death and exhausted, but still hold tremendous power, regardless. He was really interested in fundamentals and came across as being an old school, no-bullshit sort of guy. His conservative approach to making pictures is truly radical.



Funk Funk
2000
Hi8 transfered to DVD
9:18



dirtystreamsdirtcream
ink, pencil and acrylic on paper
18 x 18"
2007



Dog Dream's
18 x 20"
mixed media collage on raw canvas
2006-07

Back to you, could you talk a little but about the video work and the zines?

There are very few reasons not to like my videos. In fact, all art originates from my videos. Even cave paintings. If you don't believe me, watch the entire series in one sitting like I have. I provide high quality television for people who enjoy shapes, color, texture and movement. There is also climax, suspense, catharsis and endless spasms of primal funk. I make my videos in my basement over the summer months. I do very little editing and they are made very cheaply. I usually arrange the cuts chronologically in the order I made them, so they are arbitrarily assembled, to a certain degree. My slop and gunk videos are essentially one long piece. Each episode is recognizably different. Some conjure up reminiscences of weird alien landscapes culled from cheap-o monster movies, while others ape surgical documentation and the splatter gore genre. I’ve pretty much been utilizing the extreme close-up shot for nearly ten years now, so the cinematic sensibility comes directly from porn. Think of some of the more vulgar shots as abstract porn: ambiguous orifices, a creepy unnamable setting, catchall fluids and juices, never ending, non-narrative, etc. Email me and I’ll send you a free sampler and I guarantee you'll be back for more!



Funk Funk
2000
Hi8 transfered to DVD
9:18

I started making zines to accompany my shows pretty much from the beginning of my exhibition career. I usually hand them out or ask for a few dollars just to cover printing. Within them, I’ve been working with type and fonts and swirly, psychedelic lettering, but I’m also interested in pushing the limits of meaning and language, or at least trying to establish a process that exhausts a certain way of using words. Typical entries would be donkey sores, black pudding, green pig filth, liquid pig funk, spotty bottomed donkey, soggy cheese loaf, brown puddings, wet pastes, camel gas, etc. You get the point. It’s another seemingly endless project, or something that can beat itself into the ground rather quickly. I just chug along with these words in my head until I reach the next tangential avenue. Right now I’m numbering things in dubious ways: nine meats in runny black stews, or dog and pig tongues in two creams. Email me and I’ll send you a free sampler and I guarantee you'll be back for more!



golliwoggbogg
ink, pencil and acrylic on paper
18 x 18"
2007



Funk Funk
2000
Hi8 transfered to DVD
9:18

I always ask fellow Chicagoans, what are your thoughts on the current condition of Chicago’s arts scene?

Every time I think Chicago resembles a neutered animal, somebody with an enormous sack steps up to the plate and delivers in an astonishing way. I always underestimate the raw sack power of this city. Chicago is the city that runs on balls. Pure meaty balls. I enjoy calling people out and referring to many of my peers as a bunch of wimps; however, it’s so easy to slag Chicago and its artists - that's probably why you keep hearing the same people bitching and wailing endlessly. You may need to work your ass off to get your work out of this city, which is what everyone should be aiming for, but its a nice place to quietly get things done. Weird spaces and collectives keep popping up all over; there have always been so many great bare-bones places to show in Chicago. Most everyone is really accessible, too. I’ve always made an effort to include other people in what I do here. There is very little wank factor here in Chicago. Living here, you just need to remember to put those balls on ice every winter.



untitled slug drawing #146
2003-05
ink, watercolor, gouache and colored pencil on paper
7 1/4 x 9



Swamp Swamp
1999
Hi8 transfered to DVD
16:42

What are the main influential forces behind your work? Also what are you really into right now?

Man, there are so many people I draw inspiration from, way too many to rattle off. I would have to say, above anyone else, it would be Captain Beefheart. He’s number one. I can also say with great certainty that I have divided my life in two parts: before and after I saw Paul McCarthy. Not my life as an artist, but my life. I don't expect that anyone's artwork will resonate on as many levels and with such force as McCarthy’s. I think I was nineteen when I first encountered his installations and I instantly understood and knew where I belonged; that is to say somewhere on or near the dark, hairy, cold underbelly of the American Dream.

One of my favorite artists working today is Lilly Carre. She’s really a brilliant artist who seems to be weirdly expanding the comic’s form. She wrote this mini-comic called "the thing about Madeline" which has to be probably the best comic I’ve ever read. It’s a bloody masterpiece. I’ve returned to it so many times already. It’s so elegantly composed and beautifully written, really poetic but dark and perverse as well - the narrative becomes really horrifying and quite unbearable after a few readings. The quality of her lines is so amazingly good - she can draw circles around most others, especially people like me. Pretty confident stuff. Anyway, I just bought her debut graphic novel "the lagoon." It’s such a classic, already. It reminds me of Beckett, mostly, but also Flannery O’Connor and Shirley Jackson. I’m really starting to change my mind about the comics!

Aside from that I’m a big fan of John Bellows, a Chicago musician who specializes in passed-out twangy pig-fuck country. He also writes many incredibly moving songs, too. I wish more people listened to him. I’m a big fan of monster burgers, like the Baconator at Wendy’s and the monster thickburger at Hardee's. Truly wonderful shit. I’ve also been reading the Georges Simenon reissues that are being put out by New York review books pretty much as they come back out.



slopcrotch
ink, pencil and acrylic on paper
18 x 18"
2007



Swamp Swamp
1999
Hi8 transfered to DVD
16:42



Swamp Swamp
1999
Hi8 transfered to DVD
16:42

Upcoming projects, shows, zines? What can we expect from you in the near future?

I’ve just rounded up a series of 144 collaborative ink drawings that I made with the late Patrick W. Welch. It’s a really strong body of work, more than a little sick and hateful, but really funny and well made. They are pure pornographic mayhem and I can't wait to unleash them upon the world. I’m currently searching for a publisher with enough balls (and $$$) to put it out. Something tells me either Germany or Japan will show some interest. Just a hunch, of course.
I’m also working on a mess of prints and collaborative drawings with Onsmith, a cartoonist and illustrator from Chicago. We’re hoping for a printmaking residency and we're starting to experience deep feelings of entitlement. Collaboration is something I’ve never done before, so it’s really been an interesting way to work.
I’m setting up to make a few things with Keith Herzik, too. He’s a local graphic artist and screen printer, an amazing artist who's a major inspiration and an all around wonderful person. He’s kind of a cornerstone of the whole Chicago silk-screening/gig poster world.
My next show is in February in Chicago with local animatronics legend nick black. We’ll be showing a bunch of our own stuff and working on a few things together, too. In the fall of 2009 I’ll have a pretty major solo exhibition at Western Exhibitions in Chicago, too. That’s a lot, but its the way I like it, baby.



untitled slug drawing #119
2003-05
ink, watercolor, gouache and colored pencil on paper
7 1/4 x 9



brownmucklove
ink, pencil and acrylic on paper
18 x 18"
2007

new drawing

new collage

tom long

if you have not heard of this guy please take look @ tomlongart.com

also, here are a bunch of crappy stupid doodles by tom

an interview

crystal ball

You've been here on your first date, taken photos in our famous photo booth, bid on some great Chicago artwork and taken home a souvenir glass: that's right, its time for threewalls' annual Holiday Ball!
Save the date: December 13th, 2008, 8-midnight for CRYSTAL BALL!!

1513 N Western Avenue, 3rd Floor.
This year's party gives you a chance to dress up in your best fantasy costume while you enjoy Lucid absinthe in our 2008 limited glassware, etched stemware by 2008 SOLO artists: Heather Mekkelson, Caleb Jones Lyons, Cayetano Ferrer and Ann Toebbe. Glasses are a numbered edition of 24 per artist.

Auction artists include: Amanda Curtis, Amanda Ross-Ho, Amy Stibich, Anne Wilson, Aron Packer, Bebe Krimmer, Brian McNearney, Brian Yates, Candida Alverez, CamLab, Carmen Price, Carol Lung, Caroline Picard, Chris Hefner, Chris Millar, Cody Hudson, Craig Doty, Craig Yu, Dani Leventhal, Daniel Barrow, David Noonan, Deborah Baker, Deborah Boardman, Diana Guerrero-Maciá, Edra Soto, Ellen Rothenberg, Eric May, The Franks, George Gittins, Jason Lahr, Jeanne Dunning, Jesse McLean, John Parot, Judy Ledgerwood, Julia Hechtman, Ken Fandell, Lisa Krivacka, Maren Erwin, Mary Porterfield, Mathew Paul Jinks, Matt Stone, Melanie Schiff, Michael Dinges, Molly Schafer, Monika Bartholomé, Nevin Tomlinson, New Catalog, Peter Hoffman, Rachel Niffennegger, Rebecca Ringquist, Rebecca Schoenecker, Renee Prisbee Una, Robert Reinard, Selina Trepp, Sterling Ruby, William Cordova and more…
Come and enjoy drinks, dancing, fortunes and fine art and support threewalls. We appreciate your help! Come celebrate the holidays with us!
Tickets are available at the door and include unlimited beer and wine beverages:
$30.00 for ltd. glass of your choice; $20.00 without.

Glasses are also available in advance as set for $100.00 (with two tickets to the event) but act fast as there are only 24 per artist.


last year's was a blast. drunken blizzard cheap art auction with scott speh booty dancing and singing brittany spears.

this weekend

cody hudson @ andrew rafacz gallery (formerly known as bucket rider)



ulf puder @ kavi gupta

i am not usually super pumped about the shows in chicago. this week is different.

new drawing

6x10 in
graphite on paper

WFMU BENEFIT

MU Art Benefit Exhibition at Printed Matter

On View from December 6th - December 13th
Opening Reception on Saturday December 6, 2008, 5:00 to 7:00 PM


Printed Matter, Inc. is pleased to announce a benefit exhibition for WFMU that will feature artwork by over two dozen artists, including Olaf Bruening, Nicole Eisenman, Jad Fair, Mike Kelley, Chris Johanson, Christian Marclay, Richard Prince, and Cindy Sherman, among many others. Please join us from 5:00 – 7:00 PM on Saturday, December 6 to celebrate with an opening reception. The works will be on view through Saturday, December 13. Printed Matter is located at 195 Tenth Avenue (between 21st and 22nd Street).

In 2007, the FCC gave WFMU, New York City’s premier freeform radio station, permission to erect a much needed booster antenna in Manhattan. As any listener in Brooklyn or mid-town Manhattan can attest, the station's signal quality varies greatly from block to block with vast areas of the New York metropolitan area falling into black holes where WFMU's signal is unable to come in.

In order to raise funds for the new antenna, WFMU organized an art exhibition to be showcased at Printed Matter. The show's line-up, much the like the station's programming, is decidedly freeform with a mix of well established and emerging artists working in a variety of mediums including drawing, painting, photography, print, and collage. Many of the pieces in the show are new works that have been created especially for this benefit.

In keeping with the somewhat egalitarian nature of the station it was important to WFMU that much of the art be affordable. To this end WFMU commissioned several artists to create print editions while other artists have kindly agreed to sell their work for considerably less than their usual retail prices. More often than not, art benefits tend to be structured as auctions, a process which few people other than seasoned art collectors are comfortable with or enjoy. All the pieces in this benefit will be sold at fixed prices and many items will be priced to sell so come early!

Participating artists include Brian Alfred, Tauba Auerbach, Sarah Bedford, Nina Bovasso, Olaf Bruening, Tom Burkhardt, Ellie Curtis, Michael Dumontier / Neil Farber, Ben Eine*, Nicole Eisenman*, Mitch Epstein, Jad Fair, Kyle Field, Dan Funderburgh*, Matthieu Gafsou, Gelitin, Luis Gispert, Stuart Hawkins, Mark Warren Jacques, Daniel Johnston, Mel Kadel, Mike Kelley, Michael Krueger, Greg Lamarche, Chris Johanson*, Christian Marclay, Richard Prince, Steve Powers, Andrea Robbins / Max Becher, Alexander Ross*, Cindy Sherman, James Siena*, Casey Jex Smith, Geoffrey Todd Smith, Deb Sokolow, Swoon, Scott Teplin, Jim Torok*, and Will Yackulic. (* denotes WFMU commissioned print edition)

WFMU is a freeform radio station that broadcasts out to the greater NYC area at 91.1 FM and online at wfmu.org. The station is a registered 501(c)3 non-profit organization, runs no commercials or underwriting announcements and is almost entirely funded by listener donations. Long revered for its unorthodox and eclectic programming, WFMU celebrates its 50th anniversary this year.

For more information, please contact Max Schumann at mschumann@printedmatter.org.

Printed Matter, Inc. was founded in 1976 by a group of like-minded artists and art workers. Now entering its 32nd year, it is the world’s largest non-profit organization devoted to artists’ publications. Printed Matter offers some 15,000 titles by 5,000 artists at its Chelsea storefront, by mail order, and on its website.

Printed Matter, Inc. has received support, in part, through grants from the National Endowment for the Arts, the New York State Council on the Arts, the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs, Altria Group Inc, the Milton & Sally Avery Arts Foundation, The Cowles Charitable Trust, the Foundation for Contemporary Arts, The Gladys Krieble Delmas Foundation, The Gesso Foundation, The Horace W. Goldsmith Foundation, the Schoenstadt Family Foundation, The Roy and Niuta Titus Foundation, The Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts, and individuals worldwide.

http://printedmatter.org/catalogue/search.cfm?email=&cookie1=0EFD0028-1C42-ECEB-78F84991B5F84301&return=